


Manners Maketh Man

by LadyDahliaWrites



Category: Kingsman (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-27
Updated: 2020-04-27
Packaged: 2021-03-02 05:06:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23879632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LadyDahliaWrites/pseuds/LadyDahliaWrites
Summary: As an Ops Special Agent, you get paired with Agent Whiskey on a high stakes mission. What happens when something goes awry and his life is threatened?Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Fem!Reader
Relationships: Jack | Whiskey/Reader
Comments: 1
Kudos: 63





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Summary: As an Ops Special Agent, you get paired with Agent Whiskey on a high stakes mission. What happens when something goes awry and his life is threatened?
> 
> Pairing: Jack “Whiskey” Daniels x Fem!Reader
> 
> Warnings: Canon-level action and violence, smut, fluff
> 
> 6 Chapters  
> 19,563 words
> 
> A/N: Takes place a few years after the events of Golden Circle. Whiskey is alive and a good guy. Completed April 2020.

**CHAPTER ONE**

Standing in front of the bedroom mirror, you looked over your work outfit for the day: simple black pencil skirt, dark purple blouse, and black pumps. Professional. You admired your curves for a moment. Sure you weren’t as thin as some of the female field agents, but you knew you looked good. More importantly, you felt good. You spent hours in the gym each week doing cardio and weight training; you were strong and healthy. Besides, you worked in the Operational Command Center for Statesman, you didn’t have to fit into the catsuits that the field agents sometimes had to.  _ Thank god. _

You grabbed your breakfast smoothie and lunch from the counter and headed to your car. Champ said that new missions were rolling out today, all available hands on deck - Ops and Field agents were being called into HQ for this one. 

Setting your coffee down, you were just sitting down at your desk, when Ginger walked up and leaned her hip against the edge of your desk. 

“Good morning, Apple,” she said with a hint of a smirk on her face. 

“Morning, Ginger,” you replied, eyeing the smirk on her face. “What’s going on…?” you suspiciously asked, continuing to contemplate your fellow ops agent.

She laughed, “You are always so suspicious! I was just greeting a friend.” Ginger feigned a look of shock, but you knew her too well. Something was up. 

“Uh huh, like hell,” you playfully responded, standing up to start walking towards the conference room. “Are you gonna spill or are we back in high school?”

Ginger teasingly flipped her short dark hair and started walking beside you, “I have no idea what you're talking about.”

You nodded, “Ok, so it’s gonna be like that. Ok. Well, I’ll figure it out.” Turning to wink at her, you playfully sang, “I always do!”

The two of you entered the conference room, dominated by a large oak table. Several ops agents were milling around while a number of chairs at the table were occupied by field agents either virtually or in person. You stifled a giggle at the assorted stetsons around the table. Even after all this time with the agency, you were still amused by the commitment to the cowboy aesthetic. Champ was just coming out of his adjoining office, looking like he was in a heated discussion with a couple of field agents (Vodka and Merlot). You shared a glance with Ginger. Vodka was always causing some kind of drama around the agency. He was not a favorite of yours or Gingers. You both rolled your eyes. 

Adjusting your black-rimmed Statesman glasses, you caught sight of Agent Whiskey as he casually leaned against one of the back windows. He was dressed in his usual grey suit, with cowboy panels on the shoulders, white dress shirt, dark tie, wire-rimmed glasses, and his black stetson. He looked good. You  _ really  _ tried to ignore the way your stomach flipped at the sight of him. 

Agent Whiskey. What can you say? He was the best. Hands down. Whiskey held every single record within the agency. Firearm competency (no matter the weapon), tactical skills, or explosive disposal; it didn’t matter, Whiskey was the best. Before you had ever laid eyes on the dark-haired agent, you had been impressed with his skills and resume. Hearing all about how he had saved the world more times than anyone could count from the other ops agents. 

Then one day you had been walking down the hall from ops to Champ’s office, nose stuck in your tablet when you, quite literally, bumped into the senior agent. Shaken, you had taken a step back from the brick house you had just bounced into. As you looked up, you were met with a dangerous smirk, deep brown eyes, and a Burt Reynolds mustache. He had tipped his black stetson to you, introduced himself, called you ma’am, and completely stole your heart in less than 45 seconds. That fateful day had been a year ago; Ginger teased you about your crush on the handsome field agent on the daily ever since. 

Buzzing in your hand brought you back to the present. Looking down at your phone, you saw a text from Ginger.

**Ginger: wipe up your drool**

You looked over at her and rolled your eyes, before responding. 

**You: I was NOT drooling.**

**Ginger: sure…**

It was pointless to argue with her. She was right, she knew she was right, you knew she was right. You had been pining over Whiskey for the past year. There was just something about that confident swagger paired, rugged handsomeness, and that sexy southern drawl that totally stole all common sense from you. 

Abruptly breaking your daydream, Champ’s voice came booming through the conference room. 

“Howdy everybody! Feels like a damn family reunion in here, there’s faces I ain’t seen in a while. Good to see y'all.” He paused to look around the room and dip his hat, before continuing. “Now there’s a reason I brought everyone together on this one. It’s big. Like the next coming kinda big. It’s complex too. That’s why every field agent will have a dedicated ops agent watching their back. We can’t afford to overlook anythin’ or anyone on this one boys...and girls.” Champ nodded towards every female agent in the room. 

Yeah, he was a bit misogynistic, but you knew he truly meant well. Champ spent the next twenty minutes outlining the big picture of the mission before breaking down into each agent’s specific role. The mission was about the upcoming presidential election. It had been threatened by the Russian government. To make things more complicated, a large number of US tech researchers specializing in humanoid AIs had been kidnapped over the past few weeks. All of the kidnappings had ties to the KGB. A hijacked election, kidnapped researchers, plus the involvement of human-like robots - it was a recipe for nothing good. Champ started assigning roles and pairing field agents with ops agents. 

“...Lemon, you’re gonna be with Agent Rum. The two of you are gonna work the kidnappings. Cranberry, you’re up with Agent Vodka on this one. You two handle the DC angle. Why is Russia interested in our election? Ginger, you’re with Tequila on this one, try not to give him too much of a hard time.” Laughter rang through the conference room. “You two will be working the science angle. What the hell do these researchers have in common that the Russian government would want? And lastly, Apple, you’re with Agent Whiskey. You will be looking into who in the Russian government stands to gain from all of this.” Champ nodded around the room. “Alright, folks, you got your pairs and your assignments. Get workin’. We’ll meet up in a few hours in the hangar for deployment.”

With that, the various agent pairings began separating to begin working their various roles. You glared over at Ginger. You don’t know how, but you knew she had to have been involved in this somehow. She must have felt the daggers your eyes were throwing at the side of her head, because suddenly your phone vibrated again. 

**Ginger: ;)**

Your mental montage of all the ways you were going to kick her ass was cut short by a familiar warm drawl next to you. 

“Well, Apple, darlin’, looks like we’re pairin’ up on this one. I’m mighty glad ‘bout that. We ain’t ever get to work a mission together yet. An’, from what Ginger tells, you’re a mighty fine ops agent.” Whiskey said, extending his hand to you. The butterflies in your stomach had decided to act up again, circling like a tornado, fueled by your schoolgirl crush.

As you reached to shake his hand, you replied, “Yeah, well Ginger exaggerates. I wouldn’t believe everything she tells you. But either way, I’m happy to be working with you too. Should we chat about logistics?” You just kept thinking to yourself:  _ keep it professional, keep it professional.  _

“Sure, darlin’. Why don’t we head to my office?”

“Perfect. I’ll follow you.” 

You followed Whiskey out of the conference room, subtly flipping Ginger off as you walked by. She just laughed and continued her conversation with Tequila. You  _ barely  _ managed to keep your eyes away from the way Whiskey’s jeans hugged his backside perfectly, as you followed him to his office. 

Once in Whiskey’s office, the two of you developed a solid mission plan. He was going to fly to Russia and place beacon listening devices on every member of the Russian government who was suspected to be involved in the plot. As you monitored the information from those devices, he would set up a base of operations in a Kingsmen safe house on the outskirts of Moscow. From there, Whiskey would be able to respond to, and act on, any information that you directed him to. Overall it was a good game plan. 

Two hours later, all of the agents were gathering in the hangar bay before the field agents departed. Probably for one last pep talk from Champ. As you were about to round the corner into the hangar, you heard the obnoxious voice of Agent Vodka. 

“...yeah you got that right, Rum! But at least it’s better than ol’ Whiskey’s ops agent!” You froze. You just knew that cocky asshole was going to say something derogatory about you being paired with Whiskey. 

“I reckon I don’t gather your meanin’,” responded the drawled voice of Whiskey.

“Come on, Whis’. As long as you don’t video call her, you can just pretend that that beautiful voice belongs to an equally beautiful body!” Vodka started cackling. Several other agents joined in his laughter.

“And what in the hell does that mean?” Whiskey drawled again. You braced yourself; you knew what Agent Vodka was going to say, it was just going to hurt to hear him say it to  _ Whiskey _ of all people. It would kill you if he agreed to whatever insult Vodka was about to unleash about you. 

“Seriously, man? Come on, you know Apple’s got that beautiful voice. But she sure could stand to lose a few pounds, ya know what I mean? Damn.”  _ And there it was. _ “They probably don’t even make bullet proof vests in that size!” You heard the other agents laugh. 

Just as you were about to turn the corner to defend yourself, punch Vodka, or just ignore them - you weren’t really sure yet, Whiskey spoke up. 

“Manners, Vodka, manners. Tsk. Tsk. You’re lackin’ manners, boy. There are two things you got absolutely backwards. One: that is a fellow Statesman agent you are speakin’ of. That’s your kin. And that ain’t no way to talk about your kin. Not to mention someone who has your back in the field. And two: you just exposed your...uh, shortcomin’s, by talkin’ ‘bout how you can’t handle those kinds of womanly curves.”

There was a pause and then a round of “oooh” and “damn” from the other agents. Vodka was silent. Your heart fluttered at how Whiskey had come to your defense and how he described your curves. Part of you hoped that he actually considered your  _ womanly curves _ attractive, but the more practical part of you knew that he was just being a gentleman, just being polite. 

Figuring you needed to just push through the embarrassment, you held your head up high and rounded the corner to the hangar bay. Acting as though you hadn’t heard their conversation, you smiled politely at the group of agents and continued walking towards where a group of agents had started to gather. You sought out a spot next to Ginger. 

As Champ began to speak, talking about how the country was depending on the agency, even if they didn’t know it, you felt a presence move next to you. Glancing over, you saw that it was Whiskey. He leaned his head down towards you. 

“I apologize that you had to hear that disrespectful asshole back there.” Whiskey whispered in your ear. 

Trying to stifle the shiver that ran down your spine, you whispered back, “Thanks, Whiskey. It’s nothing I haven’t heard before and nothing I can’t handle. But,” you turned towards him more, to glance into his eyes, “but, thank you for defending me nonetheless.” You smiled at him.

He slightly dipped his hat, “Course darlin’. I only spoke the truth.” He winked at you, causing you to blush and avert your gaze. You looked back towards where Champ was still speaking. 

Whiskey had noticed you shiver and the blush you tried to hide, bringing a small to smile to his face. Little did you know, his heart leapt at both of those reactions. 

Soon, the field agents were boarding the plane that would take them to their various destinations. 

Before walking away from you, Whiskey turned and held out his hand to you. However, when you offered your hand, instead of shaking it, Whiskey brought it to his lips and placed a kiss on your knuckles. You let out a soft gasp at the gesture. 

“I’ll be talkin’ to ya real soon, honey.” Whiskey spoke against your fingers, before straightening up. He still held your hand. “I’ll send you a text when I land and then when I get to the safe house.” 

You were frozen by how his lips felt against your skin. How intimate the gesture felt. For a moment, you just stood gaping at him. 

Shaking your head slightly, you nodded slowly, “Wait...you know I can track you, right?” you breathlessly asked. 

“I know. I just like to stay in contact.” There was that dangerous smirk/wink combination again. He gave your hand a tender squeeze before releasing it and turning to board the waiting plane. 

Watching this interaction from a few feet away was Ginger with a knowing smile on her face. She knew a secret, well actually she knew two secrets. Both of those secrets beginning to play out in front of her. You see, Ginger knew that as long as you’d been pining for Whiskey, he had been pining for you. Both of you had confided in her shortly after your hallway mishap. She hoped that this mission would help bring you two together. It had been a little tough to convince Champ that you should work with Whiskey, instead of her, but in the end he had agreed when she argued that this pairing would allow her to train Tequila a little more. 


	2. Chapter Two

**CHAPTER TWO**

Whiskey landed in Moscow and had gotten to the safehouse with no trouble. True to his word, he had texted Agent Apple when he landed and when he arrived at the safehouse. As he was laying out his gear and tacking up a map and pictures to the wall in the dining room, his thoughts continued to stray to the pretty ops agent. He had been surprised when Champ had paired them on this mission,  _ pleasantly  _ surprised. It felt like a golden opportunity. While Whiskey respected Ginger, he was looking forward to getting to know Apple more and getting to spend some quality time with her. 

His thoughts floated to a memory from a few months ago. He had been in the gym, training with his whip when he heard a crash and a curse from the weight room next door. Concerned, he immediately ran towards the sound. Turning the corner, he saw Apple bending over to remove a plate from a loaded barbell. Seeing that she wasn’t in danger or pain, he let his gaze linger over her form. His eyes had traced the beautiful curve of her backside, sloping to a trim waist. Whiskey felt his pants tighten at the way the fabric of her shorts stretched over her ample backside. Trying not to be seen, he stood in the shadow of the doorway and watched as she had re-situated the weights and worked her way through a series of power cleans. He had shamelessly observed the way her muscles tightened and strained under the weight.  _ She was beautiful. _ Perfect hourglass figure with strength hidden within her delightful curves. Whiskey kept to the shadows, secretly tracing every dip, curve, and line of her body. From the swell of her breasts confined in that damned sports bra to the beads of sweat he watched slide-

Whiskey shook his head, trying to focus. He looked at his watch, it was close to midnight. Doing some quick math, that meant that it was about 5pm in Louisville. He knew that Apple was trying to adjust her sleep schedule so that she would be awake for Moscow time, but he also thought it wouldn’t hurt to check in either. 

**Him: you up darlin’?**

**Apple: yep! What do you need?**

**Him: I don’t need a thing honey, just wanted to check in. I thought you were changing your sleep schedule to moscow time?**

**Apple: are you testing me? Lol What if I had been asleep?**

Whiskey really tried to dismiss the idea of her dressed in cute little pajamas, hair a mess, laying in bed. He answered quickly, before he could get too lost in that fantasy. 

**Him: well, honey then I would feel like an ass. Were you asleep?**

**Apple: yeah...sorry. But I’m here if you need anything!**

And the fantasy was back...dammit. 

**Him: I’m fine. I’m the one who should be apologizing. Go back to sleep, let’s talk in the morning. Say, in about 8 hours?**

**Apple: deal, talk to you then**

**Him: night**

*****

Whiskey had started to tag the suspected members of Russian government. You had the live feed from his glasses up on one monitor, a map showing the previously tagged suspects on another monitor, and an algorithm monitoring the recordings of the suspects up on a third monitor. So far, nothing had triggered as promising from the conversations. 

You watched as Whiskey sat at a cafe, observing a woman (the target) order lunch. 

“You could hit on her or feel her up?” you suggested, speaking to Whiskey through his earpiece. An amused sigh was his only response, which made you laugh. “Okay, okay! It was just a suggestion!” You chuckled a little more. After watching the woman for a few more minutes, you offered another option, “Or you do a classic bump, you know, pretend to stumble. Just be a drunk American on holiday in Moscow.” 

This time Whiskey hummed in response. You raised an eyebrow and pumped your fist slightly, victory. He liked that idea. 

Quietly, you watched as Whiskey stood and walked over to the woman. He approached her and slurredly asked her for directions, slightly falling into her at one point. She caught him as his hand brushed her neck (planting the tracker). She helped to straighten him, then pointed in the direction he was asking. As he walked away, you heard the woman swear at him in a colorful bit of Russian. You heard him chuckle under his breath. 

“Nice one!” you cheered. Glancing to the middle monitor, you saw the newest device pop up. “Got it. Good plant, Whiskey.” 

“Thank you, darlin’,” he whispered. 

The next two days were spent the same, the two of you hunted down the suspects and then Whiskey would place trackers on them. In the downtime, you would scan through the results of your program which was reviewing the recordings for keywords. 

At the end of the second day, all the suspects had been tagged. Whiskey was back at the safehouse and you were combing through the conversations. As he sat at the table of the safehouse, he had you up on videochat through the tv. He flipped through some of the recorded transcript on his tablet. Back in your lab, you had the videochat up on one monitor as you scrolled through the transcripts on another. 

Sighing dramatically, you sat back in your desk chair. “We’re missing something, Whiskey. One of these people has got to be connected to the kidnappings. Why aren’t we finding anything?” You tiredly asked, as you pushed your glasses up to your forehead and rubbed your eyes. 

“We’ll find it, honey. We know it’s gotta be in here. So, we’ll find it.” Whiskey answered, stretching out his legs under the table. He smiled at how adorable you looked with your glasses pushed up. Your ponytail, while usually impeccable, had started to come loose allowing strands to frame your face. It was a sight that made his heart ache; he wished he could see you like this every day. 

“Ugh, I swear if I have to read one more conversation about fucking dog groomers, the prices of fish at a local market, or cheating spouses, I’m gonna lose it.” You dramatically flopped your head on to your desk, groaning. 

Whiskey chuckled at your antics. He found you so captivating when you got tired; he had learned over the past few days that you let some of your professional walls down when you felt comfortable with someone (even more so when you were sleepy). You swore a little more, you often pulled your hair back into a messy bun (or let your hair down completely), and the filter between your mouth and your brain wasn’t quite as strong. He absolutely loved it. 

He was about to make a crack about how melodramatic you were being, when something you said struck him. “Wait...honey, did you say fish prices?” 

You rolled your head to the side to meet his eyes through the videochat and raised an eyebrow. “Yeah, there’s a couple of these guys who seem obsessed with the fucking prices of fish at this specific market. Talk about it at least once or twice a day.” As you were speaking, you and Whiskey locked eyes. You sat straight upright. “Son of a bitch!”

“Dammit, they’ve been using a code.” Whiskey groaned. “Either they’re some paranoid SOBs or they know they’re bein’ watched.” 

Sliding to the monitor running the transcripts through the keyword algorithm, your fingers rapidly flew across your keyboard. “I’m changing the parameters on the program now, hopefully it will spit out a list of names in just a moment.” Whiskey just watched as your exhaustion disappeared, replaced with the spark from a lead; knowing your focus was on your screen, he allowed a lovesick smile to cross his face. 

A few minutes later, you were staring at a list of six names who had all discussed the prices of fish at a specific market.

“Can you locate where each one is right now? I’ll connect with Champ and fill him in.” Whiskey asked. You nodded, moving to pull up the location tracking map you had. 

Soon, Champ’s face was joining yours and Whiskey’s in the videochat. “Alright, show me what you got,” he drawled. Whiskey filled him in as you continued to track down the locations of the six suspects. Suddenly, Champ spoke up, “Hold on a country fried minute there Whiskey, did you say Anya Fedorov?”

“Yessir. Why? You know her?”

“Whiskey, you need to be careful now. That woman is a daggum KGB assassin. The official estimates of her kills are around one hundred, but I’ve heard rumors of up to three hundred. That is a lethal woman. Do not engage her unless you absolutely have to.” Champ drawled ominously. 

As Whiskey was about to answer, you spoke. 

“Uhh...Whiskey, isn’t that the target who you stumbled into at that cafe?” you tentatively asked. 

“Uh, yes ma’am, I do believe it is,” Whiskey answered, catching your eye. The two of you shared a silent glance before Whiskey continued. “Shit...Champ, she knows what I look like.”

“Shit,” was Champ’s only response. 

Both of you sat in silence, waiting on Champ’s operational directive. After a few beats, he spoke gruffly, “Alright, Apple, run some research on Miss Federov. Find out who she’s workin’ for.” 

You nodded and muttered a soft “yes sir.” 

Champ turned his attention to Whiskey, “Whiskey, you can track the other targets, but you do not go near that woman again. D’ya hear me?” 

“Yes sir, do not go near that woman.” Whiskey repeated. 

Champ continued, “Good. Call me when you connect some of these pieces.”

You and Whiskey nodded, and then Champ disconnected from the call. 

“Great,” you muttered. Yawning, you looked at Whiskey, “I need some sleep. But first thing in the morning, I’ll start running a spider search on her. Hopefully that will uncover who she’s working for.”

“Sounds good, honey. We’ll get back together in the morning.” Whiskey replied. “G’night, Apple.”

“Night, Whiskey.” 

*****

In the same configuration as last night, you sat with the feed from the safehouse up on one monitor while Whiskey had the feed of you pulled up on the television. The two of you had been pouring over possible connections for the past four hours. You had just been about to take a break for lunch, when something caught your eye...bank records. Anya Federov was connected to an off-shore bank account that was also connected to...you quickly scrolled through the bank records...no name attached.  _ Great. _ Switching gears, you hacked into the bank secure website to scan the accounts manually...scrolling you came across the right account number- 

“Uh, Whiskey…” you stuttered, still staring at the link on your screen, fingers halting suddenly. 

“You find somethin’ honey?” Whiskey distractedly asked, as he continued to scroll through something on his laptop. When you didn’t immediately answer, he looked up to the television and saw your pale expression. “Apple, honey? What’s wrong? What d’ya find?”

“Yeah….uh…” you started, “we gotta...we gotta call Champ, like now. I think I just found out who Anya Federov is working for.” You looked over at the feed with Whiskey, locking eyes with him. “I think she works for the president of Russia.”

There was a pause. Both of you stood motionless, staring at each other. 

“Beg your pardon? I thought you said the Russian president?” Whiskey shakily questioned. 

“Uh...yeah….I did.” you answered with a grimace. 

*****

You and Whiskey had just ended the call with Champ, after updating him on the connection that you had made. He had not been pleased. But he had shared that this piece of information actually helped to clear up some data that some of the other teams had uncovered. So it seemed that the Russian President had been the missing link.  _ Yay _ , you thought sarcastically. 

Champ had ordered Whiskey to return to the states. With the Russian President connected to a KGB assassin, he didn’t need anyone finding their way into the wrong end of a sniper scope. Whiskey and you had been tasked with identifying who would benefit, and technically the two of you had completed that mission. Begrudgingly, Whiskey had agreed to return home. He was scheduled to fly out the next morning.

Once disconnected from Champ, Whiskey had kicked off his boots, taken off his hat, and was looking thoroughly relaxed on the couch in the safehouse, his legs stretched out. 

“Well, Apple, I’m gonna have me a drink, eat something for dinner, then turn in for the night. You got plans tonight?” Whiskey asked, while it sounded flirty the thought of you spending your evening with another man had a shot of jealousy shoot through Whiskey’s gut. 

“Hmm, probably the same. I’ll probably just head back to my apartment for leftovers and trashy tv.” You let out a laugh, as you started to stand up from your desk and stretch your back. Whiskey eyed the way your blouse rode up, exposing a small strip of skin. 

“Hell, it’s no fun drinkin’ alone. Wanna have a drink with me?” Whiskey offered with a grin. 

You cocked your head to the side and raised an eyebrow, “And just how would that work, Whiskey? You’re half a world away.” 

“I’m a creative guy, gimme some credit.” He smiled broader, you hadn’t turned him down. “I’m thinking you could set up your glasses to your home tv?”

You couldn’t help but tease him, “Sounds like you’ve done this before, cowboy. You and Ginger get up to some late night antics.” You laughed at the thought of Ginger doing anything social with Whiskey. They were a great team, no doubt about it, but they usually bickered like siblings whenever they were in the same time zone for too long. 

He let out a hearty laugh that sent a warm, tingly feeling through your body. “HA! A drink with Ginger! That’s priceless, I’ll hafta tell her you said that! Whoo.” Once he had caught his breath again, he said, “No, Apple. Ginger ain’t ever shared a drink with me.”

Putting your finger to your lip, you tilted your head, pretending to think over the proposition. “Hmm...Okay! I’ll call you in an hour.” 

Whiskey’s reaction was priceless; you really wish you could have recorded that moment. Equal parts surprise and excitement. He stuttered out, “D...deal. See you soon, honey.” 

With a mock salute and a “See you soon,” you ended the call. 

Now, what to wear during this evening drink,  _ in your home, _ with Whiskey. Oh boy, what did you get yourself into, girl?

*****

An hour later, you had settled on leggings, a tank top, and an off-the-shoulder sweater. You had pulled your hair up, but left your makeup on. Quickly, you scanned your living room to make sure there wasn’t anything embarrassing within view of the television. With your leftover teriyaki and your glass of bourbon, you gently turned down the lights in your living room and called Whiskey. 

“Howdy darlin’.” He drawled.  _ Damn he looked good. _ Whiskey had changed into sweatpants and a t-shirt, and was currently sprawled out on the safehouse couch with a plate of something and a glass of - what you assumed to be - bourbon on the coffee table in front of him. 

“Hey Whiskey,” you replied, adding a hint of flirtation to your voice. “Whatcha drinking?” You nodded your head, gesturing to his glass.

“Come on now sugar, you know I only drink bourbon,” Whiskey teased, raising the glass to his lips. 

“Is that so? Hmm, I guess that makes sense. It’d be so weird if you drank red wine or something!” You laughed in response causing Whiskey to let out a slight chuckle. You raised your glass to the screen, prompting him to do the same, “A toast! To successful missions and new friendships!” He tipped his glass to you before taking a swig. 

“So, darlin’, What would two colleagues talk about while drinkin’ together after work?” He coyly asked, cocking his head to the side. You hummed and shrugged in response; he smiled and continued, “Well, if we were at a bar, I’d take this opportunity to get to know you more,” he suggested. You didn’t miss the slight hitch in his voice. 

“Oh yeah? Funny, because I was just thinking the same thing.” This time there was clear flirtation in your voice.  _ Did you just flip your ponytail a little? Oh the things this man does to you! _

Whiskey smiled widely. “That right?” He settled into the couch more, “Seems to me, it’s a date then.” He said it so casually, but he was watching your reaction like a hawk. 

Your eyes widened slightly and your cheeks blushed for a second before you recovered. But it was enough, Whiskey caught your reaction and it made his heart soar. You cleared your throat “Alright then, it’s a date,” and made yourself comfortable on your couch. “So Whiskey, tell me, how did you get recruited into Statesman?” 

For the next three and a half hours the two of you sat drinking, talking, eventually eating your dinners, and getting to know one another. You shared with him how Champ had recruited you straight out of grad school after you had been caught hacking into treasury websites to steal money to send to small rural animal shelters. Whiskey spoke about how being a field agent had been too hard on his marriage, ultimately leading to his wife leaving him. It had been surprisingly easy to talk to Whiskey. He was an attentive listener, never overspeaking you or steering topics about himself. It flowed. And it significantly added to your crush of the handsome field agent. Not that it needed much encouragement. 

Eventually the conversation turned silly, the more drinks you two shared. Your face flush with alcohol and laughter. You couldn’t remember the last time you drank this much or had this much fun.

“Okay, okay, I got one.” You laughed, waving your hand like an excited child. “Who would you rather be stranded with...Vodka or Tequila?”

Whiskey arched an eyebrow, “Really? An’ here I thought you were gonna have a tough one for me. Easy - Tequila.” 

You nodded, taking another sip of your third - or was it fourth - drink. “Good choice. That’s who I would've picked too. Vodka’s an ass and Tequila is just so...so Tequila!” You giggled, shrugging your shoulders animatedly. Your ponytail had fallen loose and you had taken off your sweater, leaving you in just a tank top. Whiskey didn’t miss the way your breasts bounced with each of your giggles, making his heart swell, along with other parts of his anatomy. He shifted slightly on the couch. 

Laughing, he added, “That he is, girl, that he is.” Whiskey took another sip, eyeing how adorable you looked right now, before continuing, “My turn. Alrighty Miss Apple. Who would you…..rather kiss? Tequila or me?” 

You actually choked on your drink. “Wh...what?” 

“Oh, I think you heard me darlin.” 

Blood raced to your cheeks as you tried to slow the sudden acceleration of your heart. “Umm...well...I don’t….I don’t really know.” You tried to answer with some authority in your voice. You failed. 

“Hm, I don’t buy it.” Whiskey’s voice seemed to have dropped an octave. He sat up and leaned forward on the couch. “See, I’m thinkin’ the answer is me.” He winked... _ he fucking winked _ . 

Deciding to go for it, and thinking you could always blame the alcohol later; you tilted your head to the side. Biting your bottom and looking into Whiskey’s eyes, you nodded. “I would choose you.” 

“I’d like that,” Whiskey stated simply, with a simple smile and a slight nod. He may have appeared calm, but your answer and the way you were now openly flirting with him had his insides all tangled up. God, he wished he could kiss you right now. 

Little did he know that you were equally as affected by his answer. His simple response had set your whole world on fire. 

Trying to recover from the hurricane of butterflies in your stomach that his answer elicited, you quickly asked him another question. “Okay. FMK, but instead of kill, let’s do kiss. Umm...Ginger, Tequila, and…”

“And you.” Whiskey finished for you. 

“Sure, and me.” You shyly met his stare, holding your breath for his answer. 

“Another easy one.” He shook his head teasingly. “Well, obviously I’d wanna fuck ol’ Tequila. That boy could probably get down!” You both laughed loudly. “Then, I’d kiss Ginger,” Whiskey paused to look directly at you, “and honey, I’d marry you.” 

After another hour of flirty questions, you weren’t able to stop the yawns. Sleep was beginning to force itself upon you. Even through the building sexual tension and undeniable connection between the two of you, exhaustion became overpowering. 

“Apple, sweetheart, I think you should go to bed,” Whiskey softly spoke, almost as if he were sitting right next to you. 

You groaned sleepily which made Whiskey chuckle and his heart swell. You let out a dramatic sigh. “Oh alright. But this has been more fun than I’ve had in ages. Thank you, Whiskey.” 

He tilted his head, “Thank you, Apple. This has been delightful. Now you go on and get some sleep. Sweet dreams darlin’, I’ll call you in the morning as I head to the airport.” 

“Okay, thank’s Whiskey. G’night.” 

“G’night, sugar.” 


	3. Chapter Three

**CHAPTER THREE**

An explosion rang out through the safehouse, waking Whiskey instantly. He reached for his gun and whip as another explosion shook the foundation. Debris began falling throughout the house. He leapt out of bed. The safehouse quickly began filling with smoke. Using his t-shirt to cover his mouth and nose, Whiskey started to stumble towards his packed bag. His head started to swim amid the heat, darkness, and smoke. He felt and heard shots ricochet through the house. His ears were ringing. Shit, someone was in the house. Dropping to the floor, he crawled towards his bag. His hands fumbled in the dark, the smoke was filling  _ too  _ fast. Something wasn’t right. Must have been a damn smoke bomb, he thought. Fuck, he had to get out of here and get some fresh air soon. Finally his fingers found grip on the handle of his bag. Gripping it tightly, he shot out the window in the bedroom and went flying through it, into the chilly Moscow night. 

Once outside, barefoot, in his underwear and a t-shirt, gripping his duffle bag, Whiskey started to run towards the vehicle that he had been using while in Moscow. He ran two steps and then stopped. They probably had it rigged with something or placed a tracker on it at the very least. Quickly changing directions, Whiskey took off running down the street, searching for a car that he could quickly steal. 

On the other side of the world…

A shrill alarm startled you out of a deep slumber.  _ What the hell is that noise? That’s not my alarm. What- oh shit! The safehouse! _ All at once, you realized - the safehouse had been breached. You leapt out of bed and quickly pulled on your Statesman glasses. As you were pulling a sweatshirt over your head and slipping on a pair of shoes, you called Whiskey. 

“Whiskey! Whiskey! Talk to me. Are you okay?” You asked urgently, trying to keep the panic out of your voice, and stay professional 

“Apple! Thank the lord. Yeah, I’m alright. The safehouse-”

“Yeah, I know. That’s why I called. The alarm woke me. Are you injured?” You cut him off, needing to know that he was safe. 

“I’m alright. No injuries. I was able to grab my bag. Thank god I was already packed. I stole a car.” Whiskey answered, breathlessly. 

You let out a breath that you didn’t know you had been holding. He was safe, he was alive. “Thank god,” you quietly muttered under your breath. 

“Apple, I’m on the run now. I don’t know who in the hell just tried to kill me, but I need you to get me the hell out of dodge real quick like.” Whiskey spoke rapidly. 

“Understood. Whiskey, I’m headed to the office now. Do  _ not  _ disconnect your glasses from mine, you hear me?. I’ll get you home,” Trying to use your best ‘mom-voice.’ You raced to your car. 

“Yes ma’am. Loud and clear.” Whiskey replied. You could have sworn there was a hint of grin in his voice. 

Thirty minutes later you were sliding into your desk to pull up Whiskey’s location. Fingers flying across the keys, you tried to find the closest safehouse - Kingsmen or Statesman - for Whiskey to get to. Suddenly your computer alarmed, glancing at the screen with Whiskey’s location, you noticed that his tracking beacon had gone still. His vehicle had stopped. 

“Whiskey! Why did you stop moving? Talk to me. What’s going on?” You urgently pressed. The view from his glasses was all black, like he had removed them and placed them against the seat or something. 

You heard a muffled curse and slight static before Whiskey’s voice responded. “Damn honey. You really got those sensors on my trackin’ implant dialed in dontcha?”

Still looking at the darkness of his live feed, “That’s not an answer. Are you okay?” Your voice softened a little. 

He laughed, “Yeah Apple. I just stopped to put on a pair of britches. It was gettin’ a little chilly. I  _ was  _ sleepin’ when the damn safehouse blew up. You don’t want me runnin’ around in just-”

“Whoa! I’m gonna stop you right there.” Cutting him off, you really tried not to picture what Whiskey wore to bed. You didn’t need that distraction in your head at the moment. You heard him chuckle as his tracking dot started to move again and the view from his live feed showed the empty Moscow streets again. Clearing your throat, you continued, “Okay, it looks like there is a Statesman safehouse about 6 hours from your location, in Osinovka, Belarus. Stay on the E30, I’ll send the address to your glasses.”

“Okay, thank you darlin’.” Whiskey replied, yawning. “Apple, do you….uh...do you mind stayin’ with me?” There was a vulnerability in this voice that betrayed how shaken he actually was by what had just happened at the safehouse. It tugged at your heart to hear the raw tone of his voice. 

“Of course. I’m right here.” You spoke kindly, before pausing to add more playfully, “How about we wake up Champ together and fill in the ol’ man on what’s going on?” There was a silly quality to your voice that made Whiskey ache to be able to see your face, and the mischievous smile he knew was stretching your cheeks. 

You were about to start a video call to Champ, when you heard snickering behind you. Turning, you saw two junior field agents leaning against the frame of your door. Not really in the mood to deal with any bullshit, you put on your best bitch-face, and said “Can I help you gentlemen?”

The taller one smirked... _ Chardonnay?...no, Pinot?...whatever, it something to do with wine. _ “I didn’t realize they relaxed the dress code so much, did you Scotch?” He jeered, shooting a glance to his fellow junior agent. 

That’s when you realized that you had run out of the house in your pajamas: booty shorts and a tank top. Luckily you had thrown on a sweatshirt. Quickly gaining composure, you responded with faux interest, “You see something you like?”

The two agents snorted with laughter. “In your dreams, Apple! We were just surprised that they made shorts that big!” Scotch howled with laughter. 

You tilted your head and narrowed your eyes to give an icy glare at the two junior agents. “Interesting.” Looking the two young agents over, you made a ‘tsk’ sound with your tongue. After a few moments, while continuing to maintain your icy disposition, you said, “Leave. I have to get back to running ops for my field agent. He’s in the middle of a priority case, way above your clearance. You may have heard of him...Agent  _ Whiskey _ .” You watched the junior agents stiffen and gasp. “Oh that’s right, he’s your field training agent, isn’t he?” You jeered and smirked, crossing your arms across your chest. “Now we can call him and share your little insight into my fashion choices or... you can leave my office and kiss my perfectly toned ass on the way out.” You slyly smiled at them.

“Y...yes m...ma’am. We’ll leave now….pl...please don’t say any...anything to Agent Whiskey.” The shorter agent stuttered as they both began backing out of your office. 

“I make no promises,” you sang, spinning back around to face your monitor, flipping them off. You heard your office door close softly behind them. Letting out a long exhale, you muttered “fucking assholes” under your breath. 

Starting to pull up Champ’s contact info, you had completely forgotten the open comm-link with Whiskey, until you heard a rumbling chuckle. “Impressive, Apple, impressive. Which two dickwad junior agents do I need to teach some manners to?” 

“Oh shit, Whiskey! You heard all of that?” cringing, you were thankful he couldn’t see the blush on your face. 

“I did.”

“Can we just move on? It’s nothing I can’t handle.” You tried to dismiss it and move on.

“I hear that you had it handled, very impressively, I might add. But that don’t change the fact that two of the junior agents under my command were bein’ so outta line. I do not tolerate disrespect.” Whiskey spoke softly, kindly. “Now, I have three thoughts on the matter. Would you like to hear ‘em?”

You rolled your eyes, but answered, “Sure, Whiskey, hit me.” Leaning back in your chair slightly, you watched the live feed from his glasses as he spoke. 

“Well, first thing, you’re gonna tell me who that was so I can send ‘em back to training and kick their asses. That ain’t no way to be communicating with a senior agent.” He paused, probably waiting for you to argue with him, but you stayed quiet. “Two, I’d volunteer to kiss that perfectly toned ass of yours.” You let out a gasp before he continued. “And three, when did I become _your_ field agent? Not that I’m complainin’ darlin’.” Whiskey flirted. You could practically hear that dangerous smirk on his face. 

“Wh...what? Umm, I don’t know...I didn’t mean...what?” You stuttered out. 

He laughed. “Oh sugar! I don’t think I’ve ever heard you speechless before!”

Taking a deep breath before answering, you shakily said “I’m not speechless. I’m just surprised. Anyways, it was just Pinot and Scotch.” You answered quickly. “And yes, as I’m currently running ops for you, so right now, yes, you are  _ my  _ field agent. Ginger can have you back on the next one.” There was a pause. You weren’t going to address his other comment, even though it had sent sparks through your entire body. Unfortunately, Whiskey wasn’t letting it go.

“Hmm, I kinda like the sound of that. I think I like bein’  _ your  _ field agent, Apple. And the last part?” He goaded you gently. 

“And...as for the rest. Well...” 

Whiskey teased. “Aw, come on honey. I really enjoyed talkin’ to you last night. I fell asleep with a big ol’ smile on my face.”

“Whiskey…” you softly whispered, suddenly very grateful that he was thousands of miles away and couldn’t see how red your face was. 

His tone was suddenly softer, gentler, “Honey...you don’t have any idea ‘bout how beautiful you are, do you?”

“I know I’m beautiful. It’s other people that don’t always see it.” you replied automatically and flatly. 

“Apple, I see it. You drive me absolutely crazy every single day that I’m in HQ.” 

“Whiskey, you’re still drunk or you got a concussion from that blast. You don’t know what you're saying right now.” You let out a fake laugh, trying to lighten the conversation. Trying to steer it from dangerous waters. 

“Don’t do that. Don’t just dismiss me like those assholes.” There was a soft, almost pleading tone to Whiskey’s voice. “Darlin’, I’m pretty darn sweet on ya. Have been for a while now.” 

“Whiskey…” again you softly whispered his name. 

“Alright, I’ll leave it alone for now. I just needed you to know how I feel. I really did enjoy our talk; I didn’t want it to end.” He took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “We can talk more once I reach this safehouse, if you’d like.” 

“Deal.” Pausing, you cleared your throat before continuing with a more teasing tone. “Now, let’s call the old man and get him looped in on this mess.” 

Once you connected your chat, so that you, Whiskey, and Champ could all conference, the two of you filled in your boss on the events of the evening. Champ asked you to review the safehouse security cameras; what you found had made you sick. There she was, on the security footage: Anya Federov. She had bombed the safehouse and tried to kill Whiskey. Champ sent out a status update to the rest of the agents involved in the mission. He then signed off, saying that he would arrange for transportation to get Whiskey stateside again. 

You kept Whiskey company as he drove to the safehouse. Once again, you felt comfortable with him, like you had last night. Conversation was natural and easy. You kept an eye on his vitals; he was going to be crashing from that adrenaline pretty soon and you wanted to make sure that he made it to the safehouse before that happened. 

Eventually he arrived at the safehouse and quickly found his way to one of the bedrooms. Before saying goodnight, he promised to call you in the morning. You activated all the security protocols on the safehouse, connecting them to your glasses and your phone before heading down the hall to the dormitory to get some sleep. 

You had just gotten comfortable when your phone buzzed in your hand. 

**Whiskey: thanks for staying with me**

**You: of course! I gotta protect my field agent**

**Whiskey: I still like the sound of that honey**

**You: lol we’ll talk more about everything in the morning**

**Whiskey: goodnight sweetheart**

**You: aw, goodnight cowboy**


	4. Chapter Four

**CHAPTER FOUR**

_ Whiskey got up from the table, walked around, closer to you. Almost like a predator stalking their prey. Damn you kinda liked feeling like his prey. Heat pooled in your belly at the look in his eyes, dark, lust-filled. Reaching you, he brought his hand out to invite you to stand. He’s asking me to dance? No, once you stood, he wrapped his strong arms around you and pressed his lips to yours. It was a hungry kiss, full of longing and promise of more to come. One of his hands ventured lower along your back to cup your ass. You moaned into the kiss, giving Whiskey the opportunity to deepen the kiss. He licked into your mouth, tasting every inch of you, causing you to moan again. One of your hands flew to run your fingers through his dark hair, knocking his stetson off his head. He chuckled against your lips, causing his mustache to tickle you. Breaking the kiss, Whiskey pulled back to look into your eyes. He smiled. Not a smirk or a tease, this was a genuine Whiskey smile. It made your heart leap and your underwear dampen. He leaned in to whisper, as your eyes closed, “Y/n, I-” _

BZZ BZZ BZZ...BZZ BZZ BZZ

Rolling over, you grabbed your phone, clearing your head from your dream about the sexy field agent you were paired with on this mission. Whoever was texting you, better have a damn good reason, your dream was just getting good. Blearily, you opened your eyes and looked down at your phone.

**Whiskey: Good morning honey**

You smiled at your phone. Okay, he gets a pass. He was probably the  _ only  _ person you couldn’t be mad at for waking you up from that dream. 

**You: Good morning Whiskey**

**Whiskey: How’d you sleep? I know I slept hard, kept having dreams about a certain gorgeous ops agent**

You rolled your eyes, but couldn’t stop the wide smile that broke through. You also tried not to think too long about his choice of words. Intentional double entendre? 

**You: aw, you’re sweet. I slept fine, just not long enough. Funny, I had a dream about a certain field agent as well**

**Whiskey: Hopefully it wasn’t those two assholes from last night?**

**You: it was you, you idiot lol**

**Whiskey: Well, that makes my day off to a good start! I’m glad, honey. Wanna video chat?**

**You: sure, give me 15 minutes to shower and change. I’ll call you when I’m ready**

**Whiskey: call me from the shower?**

**You: Whiskey!!!**

**Whiskey: lol I’m just joking, give me a call when you’re ready**

**You: talk to you soon**

Sure enough, fifteen minutes later you were back at your desk talking with Whiskey over the videochat. As you talked, you couldn’t help but notice the dark circles under his eyes. He looked tired; his race to safety from last night looked like it was taking more of a toll than he was letting on. 

“Whiskey, you look tired,” you offered gently, giving him a soft smile. 

“Aw honey, don’t go worryin’ ‘bout me. I’m doin’ just fine.” He answered easily, offering you a wide smile. 

“Don’t bullshit me, Whiskey. It’s my job to worry about you,” you paused before adding, “you need to eat something and get some coffee in your system.”

“Yes ma’am.” He gave you a mock salute, but did start walking towards the kitchen. “Now, tell me ‘bout this transportation outta here.”

“I just heard from Champ. Looks like it’s gonna be….” you quickly scrolled through Champ’s message, “uh, Agent Port. He’ll be there in about 8 hours.” You sat back and looked over at Whiskey through the screen as he nodded at the information. He was heating up a MRE and making coffee. The subtle domesticity of it made you smile. Suddenly you were struck by a thought, “Wait! Whiskey, don’t drink any coffee. Why don’t you get some more sleep? I’ll keep an eye on things and wake you up when Port gets close.” 

He glanced over to you on the screen and cocked his head to the side. “Either you really  _ are  _ worried ‘bout me that much or you just wanna see me take my clothes off.” Whiskey laughed, but he did put the coffee down. 

  
Unable to stop your giggle, you answered, “Maybe it’s both.” Raising an eyebrow, you tossed him a playful smirk. It was worth it to see the momentary shocked expression on Whiskey’s face. 

Once he recovered, he flirted back. “That right, sweetheart?” He swaggered towards the screen with a growing smirk on his features. 

Teasingly you rolled your eyes. “Yes, but seriously, you do need to get some sleep. I promise I’ll wake you up in about 6 hours.” 

Begrudgingly, Whiskey nodded. He quickly finished eating his MRE before tossing the wrappings. Then, after grabbing a couple of blankets from the bedroom, he came back out to the living room. You sent him a questioning look, but he just shrugged and started to take his pants off. You yelped and covered your eyes, while Whiskey just laughed and climbed under the blankets. He laid there for a second, before turning his head to look at you on the screen.

“Apple, I’m real glad that you’re here with me. Thank you darlin’.” His voice was soft, almost vulnerable. Once again, he stole your heart.

“I’m really glad to be here with you too, Whiskey.” You answered, equally soft. 

He rolled his head to look up at the ceiling before closing his eyes, fidgeting a bit before getting comfortable. Softly, he whispered, “It’s Jack, m’ name’s Jack.” You almost didn’t hear him, his voice was so quiet. 

Feeling your heart swell and your cheeks flush, you softly replied. “Jack….I’m y/n.” With his eyes still closed, you saw that he grinned at the ceiling. 

*****

Whiskey...Jack had been asleep for a little over five hours, you were going to give him one more hour before waking him up. As he slept, you couldn’t help but notice how peaceful and relaxed he looked. Gone were the worry lines around his eyes and forehead. Gentle snoring filled your comlink, as you watched over the sleeping field agent. You were tracking Agent Port’s progress and knew that he was still about 3 hours from the safehouse. 

You had kept yourself busy while Jack slept by routinely flipping through all the security cameras at the safehouse. Even though you knew he was safe, you were still shaken by the events at the Moscow house; unable to shake the uneasy feeling in your gut. 

Scanning each camera, you flipped through the exterior front camera - clear, exterior east - clear, exterior west - clear, exterior rear-  _ not clear _ . There, at the back of the house, you saw two figures, clad in tactical gear, working to pry open a window.  _ Shit! _

“Whiskey...Jack! I need you to wake up now.” You spoke urgently through your comm system. He didn’t stir.  _ Shit. Shit. _ A little louder, “Jack! Whiskey! You’ve got company incoming.” 

On your screens, you pulled up the interior camera facing the living room and the live view from Whiskey’s glasses. If you were going to guide him out, you needed to see what he saw. 

Still he didn’t budge. “WHISKEY! WAKE UP! You’ve got company!” This time you shouted. He bolted upright. “Bogies incoming, rear of the house.” 

Still bleary from sleep, he nodded and responded, “Yeah, yeah, I hear ya.” He stood up from the couch, letting the blankets fall to the floor. You couldn’t stop your eyes from taking in his boxer-clad legs; the strength in them clear from the sharply defined muscles in his thighs and calves. You let out an involuntary moan at the sight. Your brain suddenly sidetracked with the thought of what one of those thighs might feel like between your legs...Jack’s whispered voice brought you back to the present, “Where are they now, honey?” 

Tearing your eyes from his legs, you glanced over the feed from the back of the house. Shit, the two figures were now climbing into the house. “In the house now, making their way towards your location.” 

Suddenly an explosion rocked the safehouse, knocking Jack to his feet. You quickly scanned the cameras,  _ where the hell did that come from? _ Frantically, you flipped from live feed to live feed, trying to find where the bomb came from. Nothing. None of the cameras showed anything. Just smoke and falling debris.  _ Was there a third intruder? _ Glancing to the feed from Jack’s glasses, you froze. 

“Jack, are you okay?”

He groaned, “Uhh… I’m alive, but I got hit with somethin’.” He groaned again, rolling to his side. 

Your mind was racing; needing Agent Port to get to the safehouse faster, needing to somehow take out the two ( _ or more? _ ) assailants, and needing to make sure Jack was okay. Your heart was racing; the man you were in love with had been injured, you needed to get him to safety. What the hell was happening? What do I need to do? What can I do? All of a sudden, a calm poured over your system. Starting at the crown of your head, it felt like honey dripped over your system. You switched into crisis management mode. One of the skills taught during training for ops agents is the ability to become laser focused on a singular task, functionally blocking out all distractions until the task is accomplished. You felt yourself slide into a higher level of functioning; shoulders loosened, you sat up taller, mind cleared and focused, your eyes narrowed. It was no longer Jack - the agent you were madly in love with - no, now it became an injured field agent in need of immediate assistance and extraction. All business, no emotions. Ops agents were trained to compartmentalize their emotions, push them aside in order to maintain the success of a mission. Purely calculated. 

Smooth and tactical, “Agent Port, what’s your ETA to safehouse?” 

The response was quick, “Two hours ma’am.” 

“Cut that in half, target agent has been injured, safehouse has been breached.” You replied, short, professional, efficient. 

“Shit...Understood.” You faintly heard the whine of an engine speeding up before the line clicked off. 

Clicking your mic back to Whiskey’s glasses, “Whiskey, injury update.”

He groaned, “Umm, left shoulder wound and right leg wound. Both appear to be from shrapnel.” He instantly recognized the change in your tone; he knew that your training had kicked in and that the playful banter the two of you usually had was temporarily suspended. 

“Understood. Arm yourself. I’m going to be remotely activating some of the assets in the house.”

“Fuck...understood.” Whiskey winced, but started looking around for any one of the weapons hidden throughout the safehouse. 

You rapidly accessed the weapons cache at the safehouse, quickly determining where different assets were in relation to your injured agent and the assailants breaching the house. Various strategic action plans flew through your brain, quickly assessing the vitality and success rate of each one. Upon finding the devices you were searching for, you gave more directions to Whiskey. 

“Whiskey, stay low, get to the kitchen. Tell me when you are there.”

“10-4.” You heard movement and soft painful moans, as the field agent crawled through the debris that littered the floors of the safehouse, and then, “In position.”

“Copy, stay low agent.” 

“Understood.” 

You activated three grenades that were being stored in the back bedroom of the house, watching as it neutralized one of the assailants. Satisfied, you nodded at the camera feed. Quickly flipping through the interior cameras, you located the second assailant, entering the living room amid the smoke. 

“Whiskey, bogie entering the living room. Two o’clock.” You heard a gunshot and watched the second assailant drop. “Good shot. Assailant neutralized.” Again, you scanned the camera feeds. Exterior front, clear. Exterior east, clear. Exterior west, clear. Exterior rear, clear. Interior entryway,  _ not clear _ . 

“Whiskey, move towards the rear of the house. Assailant in the entryway. I’m going to activate the front door.” He groaned in response, but you watched as the live feed from his glasses showed him moving towards the bedrooms. The field agent was significantly limping and his left arm was cradled into his body. Smoke and debris filled the house, making it difficult to fully track the agent, but once you saw him enter one of the rear bedrooms you knew he was clear. You activated the explosives within the front door. Third assailant, neutralized. 

Again, you rotated through the camera feeds. All exterior cameras - clear. Interior cameras: entryway - clear, kitchen - clear, living room - clear, bedroom 1 - clear, bedroom 2 - injured agent, but otherwise clear. You reviewed the sensors throughout the house, no other breaches were detected. Roof was secure. The house was clear. 

You turned your attention to the injured agent in bedroom 2, “Whiskey, all clear. Injury update.” 

“Workin’ on it darlin’. I’ll get back to you on that one.” 

You nodded to yourself and clicked your mic to the incoming agent, “Agent Port, ETA?”

“Forty minutes ma’am.” 

“Good, the target agent is at the rear of the house. Two injuries: right leg and left shoulder.”

“Understood.” 

You flipped to the interior camera showing the bedroom where Whiskey was laying. He was leaning against an interior wall of the bedroom, you clicked your mic to his glasses, “Agent Whiskey, extraction is forty minutes out. Injury update.” 

You saw him glance up to the camera in the bedroom and give you a weak smile and a shaky thumbs up with his right hand. Through your earpiece, you heard him softly whisper your real name. Your brain froze. It jarred you; your actual name not computing with the crisis management mindset you were in. You were momentarily confused. It felt too intimate...too personal...the sound of your name broke through your training. Suddenly your emotions were slammed into realtime and you were staring at the man you were falling in love with, injured, slumped against a wall. 

“Jack! Talk to me. Are you okay?!” you shouted, leaning forward towards your screen and tightly gripping your mouse and keyboard. 

“Yeah, baby.” He sighed. “I’m okay. I put alpha gel on my leg wound, so it’s sealed up tight. My shoulder is another matter though…” He trailed off. It sounded like it was taking a lot of effort for him to speak. 

“Why? What’s wrong?” you pressed, growing even more alarmed. 

“It smarts. A lot more than a normal gunshot. It musta nicked somethin’ or been laced with somethin’.” There was a long pause. “How far out is Port? Tell that boy to….kick it in...gear” Jack’s voice was growing softer, becoming more breathy. 

“Less than forty minutes. Jack, stay with me. Keep talkin’ to me, baby.” You were scared. Jack was tough, he’d been shot countless times.  _ This shouldn’t be weakening him so much. _ To hear his voice start to falter sent a fear straight through your heart. Tears were threatening to break. 

“Okay, y/n. I....I gotta say, honey...I’m impressed with your crisis management...that...that was damn impressive.” He was starting to stutter and slur his words, his voice shaking. 

“Thanks.” You watched, helpless, as his body began to slide further down the wall, “Jack! You gotta stay with me. Port is on his way. Stay with me, Jack! Please!” You were shouting now. 

Softly, he whispered, “Y/n...I’m tryin’ gorgeous…” there was a long pause, you could hear his ragged breathing. “I’m tryin’...I’m...I’m gonna take you...on a proper date when I get back…”

“Yeah, Jack I’d like that...keep talking to me. Where are we gonna go?” You were trying to hold back tears now. There was too long of a pause. “JACK! Where are we gonna go?”

“Huh? Oh...y/n...yeah...gonna go….” You watched as his body went limp and his head rolled to the side, his eyes closed. 

“JACK! NO! WAKE UP!”


	5. Chapter Five

**CHAPTER FIVE**

You stared, in horror, at Jack slumped against the bedroom wall for the next 37 minutes. Helpless to do anything. You shouted his name, hoping to rouse him, until it became pointless. At some point Ginger entered your office, placing her hand on your shoulder as she also stared at the unconscious shape of Whiskey propped up against the wall. You felt numb, underwater. Your eyes occasionally flickered to the screen showing Jack’s vitals. He was alive, but in a lot of pain, and losing a lot of blood. Helpless, all you could do was stare. It wasn’t until you heard Agent Port tell you that he had arrived at the safehouse that you even stirred. 

“Apple. I’ve arrived. Status of target agent?”

You cleared your throat, shaking your head. “Rear of the house, bedroom 2, Whiskey is unconscious with one unknown injury to the left shoulder. Alpha gel has been applied to the right leg. Immediate medical care is required.” You hated that your voice shook. 

“Understood ma’am. 

You watched as Agent Port entered the house and made his way through the wreckage to the rear bedroom and to Jack. He looked and felt over the injured agent, assessing for further injuries. You were struck by how calm, almost reverent his actions were. Looking to the camera in the corner of the room, Agent Port spoke. 

“Apple, Whiskey’s alive, weak but alive. Look, I’m going to stabilize him and get him loaded on the plane. I’ll knock him out for the trip, make sure that he is in a stable coma. Make sure we have a full medical team on standby for our arrival. I’ll text you along the way.”

“Copy. Thank you Agent Port.” He nodded towards the camera. 

Numb, you watched as the agent injected Jack with a stabilizing agent - something of Ginger’s making - that would keep him unconscious and safe until he landed in Kentucky. Next, he field dressed Jack’s shoulder and hauled him out to his vehicle. Once again, you were struck with the tenderness that Port displayed as he was loading Whiskey into the vehicle. As Port raced away from the house, you called in a clean up crew to sanitize the safehouse. 

*****

Twelve hours later, you were standing in the hangar bay of Statesman HQ, awaiting the flight from Belarus. Ginger and Champ stood next to you, both radiating nervous energy. The entire Statesman medical team was on standby a few yards away. Ginger had made you shower and change clothes but you hadn’t been able to sleep. Now dressed in dark scrubs, you tried to make your body stop trembling. The sound of the taxiing plane caught your attention, looking up you were relieved to see the Statesman plane roll into view. The medical team began prepping nearby. 

Once the plane came to a halt, there was a flurry of activity. The medical crew swarmed, urgently removing Jack and placing him onto the gurney and wheeling him towards sickbay. Ginger trailed after them, giving you a hopeful smile before turning to chase after the medical crew. As much as your heart wanted to follow them, you knew your job as ops agent wasn’t completed yet. There were still things to handle. You needed to debrief with Champ and Port. 

Walking over to Agent Port, you stuck out your hand. He shook it and smiled at you. “Thank you Agent Port. Good work. Are you ready to debrief with Champ or do you need some time?” You asked, returning his smile with a genuine smile of your own. If it hadn’t been for Port’s timeliness, you may have lost Jack. You were incredibly grateful for him. 

“I’m ready Apple. Thanks though. I’ll follow you.” He gestured for you to lead the way over to where Champ was waiting. 

“Damn fine job, Agent Port, damn fine. Why don’t we head on up to my office and debrief?” Champ boomed, shaking Port’s hand. 

*****

The debrief with Port and Champ had gone well. Port was a seasoned agent, efficient in his reporting and detailed in his answers. He was a senior agent, having been with the agency for many years. Upon leaving the debriefing with Champ, he gently pulled you aside to a secluded section of the hallway. 

“Apple, you got a minute?” He kindly asked.

“Of course, Agent Port.” You answered with a smile.

“There’s something else. Something that I didn’t put in my official report and didn’t say in there,” he gestured his thumb towards Champ’s office. 

Cocking your head to the side, you shot him a confused and concerned look. “You deliberately left something out of your report? Agent Port, what-”

He gently cut you off, “Apple, he...Whiskey, sorta came to when we were on the plane.” Port looked around, making sure that no one else was around, he continued in an almost whispered voice. “Whiskey, he started talking a little as we were flying.”

Your eyes widened as you looked at Port, your heartbeat quickened. Trying to maintain an even voice, you said “And? What did he say?” 

He sighed and smiled kindly at you, “You know that Whiskey and I go way back, right? He and I were recruited around the same time, kinda grew up in this place together. He’s like a brother to me.” Port ducked his head slightly, giving you a reassuring look, before continuing. “When you joined the agency, man, that boy was smitten from day one. Couldn’t get him to shut up ‘bout you. Still can’t.” Port softly laughed, eyes lost in a distant memory for a moment. “Anyways, I wanted to tell you that when he came-to on the plane, he was asking for you. He called out your name, I’m assuming your real name, because he kept alternating between it and Apple.”

You gasped, bringing your hand up to cover your mouth. “Jack.” You whispered. 

“He called out for you. I told him that we were on our way to see you.” Port smiled and shook his head, “And you know that what ol’ cowboy said next, he just smiled and whispered that he was gonna ‘ _ take that sweet girl out _ ’ when he got to you. I gave him another dose of the sedative and he was knocked out again.” Port looked at you with sincerity in his eyes, “I just thought you should know that he was thinkin’ about you the whole time.” 

Tears had filled your eyes, without thinking you threw your arms around Agent Port, hugging him. He was surprised at first, but quickly returned the embrace. You whispered a soft “Thank you,” against Port’s chest. 

“You’re welcome. And for the record, I completely support the relationship and would have no problem goin’ to bat with Champ if you guys needed me to.” Port gently pulled away from the embrace, but kept his hands on your upper arms. “I’m happy the ol’ dog was able to find love again.” 

Taking a step back, again placing professional distance between you two, you nodded. “Thank you, Agent Port. Thank you.” There was sincerity in your voice. 

He smiled and nodded. “Of course, honey. Now, you go on and make sure that fool is alright. And when Jack wakes up, tell him that he owes me. And it’s gonna be more than just a bottle this time. He owes me like a case!” Port laughed good-heartedly. 

You laughed, “I will. I promise.” 

And with that, Port gave you one last kind smile and turned to walk towards the locker rooms. As you watched him walk away, your heart swelled knowing that Jack had good friends who cared about him. You were turning to start walking to the medical wing, when your phone vibrated in your pocket. 

**Ginger: He’s stable. Bullet had been laced with poison. I gave him the antidote, he’s still knocked out. But he’s stable.**

You let out a long exhale.  _ Thank god. Jack was going to be okay. _

**You: Thanks for the good news Ginger**

**Ginger: you wanna come down and be with him until he wakes up?**

**You: can I? Is that allowed?**

**Ginger: you are his ops agent, aren’t you?**

**You: I am, aren’t I? Okay, I’m on my way.**

Walking into Jack’s room, Ginger met you with a warm smile and a hug. She held you tight. As much shit as she gave you, the woman did really care for you. And she cared for Whiskey. She had been just as scared as you were when he was laying unconscious on the floor of the safehouse. 

“Thanks Ginger,” you spoke softly into the hug. 

“Of course, Apple. Now, go on over and have a seat by his bed. He’s still knocked out, but I’ve given him a shot of something to speed up the healing process.” She spoke kindly, pulling away from the hug and leading you over to his bed. 

You sat next to his bed and covered his right hand with both of yours and looked over his handsome face. There were a few bruises and bandages, but otherwise he looked as peaceful as he did when he was sleeping at the safehouse...before everything went sideways. Ginger stopped as she walked towards the door to glance back at the two of you. She smiled sweetly, as you brushed Jack’s hair away from his face. With a small nod to herself, she walked out of the room to go monitor Jack’s vitals from the other room. 

*****

You were woken by gentle shaking and murmured voices. Shifting slightly, you realized that your back was sore,  _ dammit, I must have fallen asleep hunched over at my desk again. _ The murmured voices continued and you felt more shaking...from beneath your head. You shot upright, eyes flying open. The scene that met you was absolutely not what you had been expecting. 

Jack was awake and sitting up, softly talking with Port and Tequila. You must have fallen asleep at his bedside with your head on the edge of his bed. Soft chuckles came from the three men. 

“Oh my god, Ja-Whiskey! You’re awake!” you gushed, taking his hand in yours. 

“G’mornin’ to you darlin’. The boys and I were wonderin’ when those pretty eyes would make an appearance.” Jack teased, receiving soft laughter from the other two agents. 

Hearing his reference to the other occupants of the room, you suddenly stood, fixed your ponytail, and smoothed down the scrubs you still wore. Clearing your throat, you turned to address the two uninjured field agents, “Well, excuse me gentlemen. I apologize for my lack of professionalism.” You looked over at Jack, before adding, “Agent Whiskey, I’m glad you’re okay and that you’re awake.” Taking a step to leave, you added to the agents, “Gentlemen.” 

You had almost made it to the door when Whiskey broke out in laughter, “Apple, darlin’ get your butt back over here. There’s no need to be so formal. These two knuckleheads know all ‘bout my little crush on you. There’s no need to hide nothin’ from ‘em.” 

Turning to face the room again, you were surprised. “What?”

Jack laughed again, holding his hand out gesturing for you to come back. “Come ‘ere, darlin’, these two are like my brothers. Port and I go way back to our early days here. And young Tequila, well he’s like the younger brother we didn’t know we needed.” You made your way back to the chair by his bedside, as Port and Tequila pulled their chairs closer to Jack’s bed. Jack continued, “Honey, these boys are my kin. Y/n, please meet Roy,” he gestured to Tequila, who tipped his head towards you. “And Danny,” he gestured to Port who sent you a wink. “Boys, meet my y/n.” 

“Ma’am.” Both agents said softly. 

Port...Danny spoke up first, “Y/n, we’ve had to put up with Jack bein’ a lovesick fool for the past year. So let me tell you that both Roy and I are real happy for the two of you. And we look forward to getting to know you. More than just the badass ops agent you are.” You briefly thought back on the handful of missions that you had run with Port. 

Smiling, you looked at Roy and Danny and then over to Jack. You felt comfortable; if Jack trusted these men, it meant that you could trust them too. Winking at Jack, you turned back towards the other agents with a mischievous smirk. “Ohhh, so Jack’s been talking about me, has he? Well, I’d love to hear more about that.” You chuckled, squeezing Jack’s hand. “Start spilling, boys!” 

The four of you sat talking and laughing for the next three hours. Danny was more than happy to share stories from when he and Jack were young recruits and then junior field agents. He had you laughing so hard, your side was aching and you thought you were going to pee. Roy was quick to tease Jack about the early days of his schoolboy crush on you. Telling a story that had Jack blushing from embarrassment, about how the two of them had accidentally walked in on you and another ops agent (Lemon) doing yoga in one of the gyms. Apparently, it had  _ affected _ Jack and he had been unable to hide it very well.

Eventually, Ginger came in to kick you all out; Whiskey needed to get some sleep and she needed to run more tests. Reluctantly, you, Port, and Tequila all left the medical wing with promises to come back and visit soon. 

You finally headed to your apartment. Knowing that Jack was safe had taken a major weight off your shoulders, you felt like you could fully relax now. Grabbing the bag of takeout Chinese you had gotten on your way home, you parked your car and entered your apartment. As soon as you walked in, a wave of exhaustion hit you.  _ How long had it been since you had last really slept? 24 hours? Longer? Definitely longer. Fuck. _ You kicked off your shoes, dropped the food on the table, and traipsed back to your bedroom. As you were considering a shower or just throwing yourself in bed, your phone chimed. 

**Jack: hiya sweetheart**

**You: Aren’t you supposed to be asleep? Plus, how did you even get your phone back. I thought Ginger took it from you.**

**Jack: She did. And now I have it back.**

**You: I don’t even want to know…**

**Jack: lol I needed to talk to you**

**You: oh yeah? ; )**

The shower could wait, you slipped off your scrubs, leaving you in just bra, underwear, and a tank top. Sliding under the covers, you hit the switch on your nightstand which dropped all the blackout curtains in your bedroom.  _ God, I love Statesman tech. _ You pulled your Statesman glasses off and set them on your nightstand. As the room was plunged into total darkness, the only light was from your phone as Jack responded.

**Jack: Yeah. I miss having you in my ear.**

**You: aww, you are so sweet. I’m really glad you’re okay Jack**

**Jack: Me too, honey. Me too.**

You felt your eyes start to close, exhaustion beginning to overpower you. Sitting up a little, you slipped off your bra and tossed it past the foot of your bed.  _ I’ll deal with it tomorrow. _

**Jack: So, what are you doing right now?**

**You: Talking to you, trying to fall asleep. I think I’ve been up like 36 hours...maybe more?**

**Jack: Sweetheart! You didn’t sleep when I was out?**

**You: I couldn’t, not really. I was scared.**

**Jack: Baby, you need to get some rest.**

**Jack: Can I call you? Maybe talk to you until you fall asleep?**

**You: Facetime? I wanna see you…**

A few seconds later, your phone was ringing for a Facetime call. Rolling over you switched on a lamp and then answered the phone. You tried to find the right angle, eventually settling for resting the phone on the pillow next to your head, so that you could imagine that Jack was in bed next to you. 

“Hi sweetheart,” Jack drawled softly. 

You sleepily smiled at him, “Hi cowboy.”

He groaned faintly, “Damn, how is it that you get more gorgeous every time I see you?”

Rolling your eyes, you joked “Probably because you’re going blind. Maybe you should have Ginger check you for a concussion or vision problems.”

He chuckled, “Nah baby, that ain’t it. I think it’s because I just keep fallin’ more and more in love with you.”

You hummed in response, closing your eyes and smiling. 

“When I get released from here, Champ will probably put me on bedrest for a little while until he’s sure that I’m back up to speed. So, I’ll be in Louisville for a while. I’d like to take you out someplace?”

Still with your eyes closed, you nodded and whispered, “That sounds really nice Jack. I’d love that.”

He grinned. “Good. Me too.” There was a pause, as he let his eyes trace over every inch of your sleepy face. “Baby, I’d also like to make you my girl?” His whispered question was tinged with vulnerability. 

You peeked your eyes halfway open to look at him. “You already know the answer to that, Jack. Of course!” Your eyes fell closed again. “Been your girl for the past year.” You murmured sleepily. His heart nearly leapt out of his chest. 

“Damn, baby, you just made me the happiest ol’ cowboy around.” He smiled widely. 

Giggling softly, you whispered, “According to Danny, you were talking all about asking me out when you were on the plane.”

“What’s that now?” 

“Yeah, after the debriefing, he pulled me aside. Told me that you woke up a little on the plan and that you started calling out for me. When he told you that you were on the way to see me, you just smiled and told him all about how you were going to take me out when you saw me.” You whispered with a hint of a tease in your voice; your eyes were half open. 

He laughed heartily. “Well all be.” 

Jack watched the way your eyes fluttered shut and how the muscles in your forehead started to relax. You were just so daggum adorable. 

“Baby, as much as I want to continue this wonderful little chat, talkin’ ‘bout what you’re wearin’ or whatnot. You need to sleep, babygirl.” He saw you frown a little and let out a soft whine. He continued, “Text me when you wake up and we can talk more then, okay darlin’?” 

You huffed softly, “Fine…” Smiling, you opened your eyes a little to look at Whiskey before adding, “I’m just wearing a tank top and underwear.” 

He groaned, softly mumbling your name. “Sweetheart, are you tryin’ to kill me? I’m already in the medical bay.” You softly giggled in response; your eyes fluttering shut again. “Baby, you gotta get some sleep…”

“Stay with me?” You softly questioned. 

“Of course.”

Jack watched as you rolled over to turn off your lamp, briefly exposing the tantalizing swell of your breasts above the neckline of your tank top, before the room was plunged into dim light. He stayed watching you until your breathing evened out and the phone slightly slipped from your hand. Before ending the call, Jack softly whispered to your sleeping form. 

“G’night sweetheart. I love you.”


	6. Chapter Six

**CHAPTER SIX**

Three days later, Jack was released from sickbay. He was ordered by Champ to take two weeks rest from fieldwork; he was allowed to come into HQ, he could even train, but he wasn’t allowed into the field. While Jack had been in the medical wing, you had taken a couple of days off to rest. Mostly to catch up on sleep and reset your sleep schedule from being on Moscow time. 

The other teams of agents had also efficiently handled their tasks, successfully completing the mission. The US election had been protected, the threat from the Russian government had been neutralized, the researchers had been rescued, and all AI technology had been recovered. Champ had been very pleased. He still had Ginger following up on a gut feeling that someone within the US government had been in on the plot. But overall, the mission was complete and had been successful. 

After returning to work, Champ had paired you with Tequila on an easy intel trip to Kingsmen. One of their agents, an Agent Gallahad, had uncovered some interesting information related to possible activity in the US. Tequila was flying out there to meet with him. Apparently, they had a relationship from a joint operation a few years ago; that was a little before your time. 

You were triple-checking the security protocols at the safehouse (after Moscow, you were still uneasy), when your phone buzzed on your desk. 

“Can you hold on a second, Tequila?” You asked the field agent, glancing at him through your screen. 

He smiled back at you, “Course, Apple.” The agent stretched out on the couch at the safehouse with his hands behind his head. 

**Jack: Hi sweetheart. Are you free for dinner tonight?**

You couldn’t help the smile that erupted across your face. Even Tequila caught it. 

“Aw, is that your boy?” He teased. You shushed him, playfully glaring at him. He just laughed. 

**You: I should be. I’m just wrapping up a short mission with Tequila. But everything should be squared away around...4 this afternoon**

**Jack: Perfect! Say hi to him for me. I’ll pick you up at 6?**

**You: Works for me. What should I wear?**

**Jack: That’s a dangerous question...nothing?**

**You: omg Jack! Lol seriously, what should I wear?**

**Jack: lol We’re going horseback riding.**

**You: Fun! I’ll dress appropriately**

**Jack: See you tonight babygirl**

**You: See you tonight <3 **

You turned back towards the screen with Tequila to see him watching you with a smirk on his face. “Oh, stop it Tequila!” You laughed. “He says hi, by the way.” Tequila threw his head back laughing. 

The mission ran smoothly and in no time Tequila was back on the Statesman plane, coming home. You quickly filed your post-mission report and raced to your car. Once back at your apartment, you hurriedly showered and decided on a cute outfit: high-waisted blue jeans, a black belt with a Statesman belt buckle, a white basic tank top (which was slightly see-through, allowing your black bra to be seen through it), and cowboy boots. You had a red plaid button down that you could throw on if you got cold. Lastly, you had braided your hair and put on a baseball hat. You looked  _ good. _ The toughest part had been deciding on your underwear. Ultimately you opted for a sexy lacy number that you hoped Jack would be taking off of you by the end of the date. A shiver ran through you just thinking about it. 

At 6:00 on the dot, there was a knock on your door. Butterflies swirled in your stomach; you were beyond excited to be spending time with Jack, while you were in the same time zone. Opening the door, your jaw actually dropped. Jack looked really,  _ really  _ good. He was wearing his black stetson, a plain white t-shirt with a black leather jacket over it (collar turned up), dark blue jeans, his signature Statesman belt buckle, and black cowboy boots. Shamelessly, you looked him over, letting your eyes wander. 

Little did you know that Jack about had a heart attack when you opened the door. You were an absolute vision. He had a hard time tearing his eyes away from the dip in the top of your tank top and the way he could barely see your black bra underneath. But,  _ oh _ , when he was finally able to tear his eyes away, they got stuck again on the curve of your ass in those jeans. He may have let out an appreciative groan. 

You recovered first, “Wow! You clean up nice, Jack. You look good.” There was that playfulness in your voice that drove him crazy.

His eyes snapped up to meet yours, before he drawled, “Thank you darlin’. You look like a damn angel. Christ, you are so gorgeous, baby.” 

Laughing, you replied, “Thank you. Let me just grab my jacket and my purse. Then I’m ready.” 

Jack walked you out to his truck, opening the passenger door for you. As he hopped in, he turned to you with a smirk. “Now, are you ready for the ride of your life, honey?” 

Smirking back at him, you answered, “Absolutely.” Him and his damned double entendres, you shook your head, smiling as he laughed and pulled out of the parking lot. 

Soon, the two of you were pulling off to a dirt road and up to a barn and a stable. Before you knew it, you and he were saddled and guiding the horses out of the stable. Jack told you that the horses belonged to a friend of his who let him go riding whenever he was in town. 

Jack looked right at home up on his horse, just adding fuel to your attraction to him. You’d always had a thing for cowboys. He led you along a trail which led out of the pasture and into the nearby woods. The two of you rode, side by side, enjoying each other’s company, talking, and breathing in the fresh air. 

“You look good up there, sweetheart. Like a natural,” Jack drawled, tipping his hat towards you. 

“Well thank you, cowboy. You look pretty delicious over there yourself,” you coyly answered. “So, where are we riding to?”

“Well, I got this cabin that I sometimes use to go huntin’. When I get time to go huntin’ that is. I packed us some food, some liquor, some clothes, and I was thinkin’ we could stay the night up at the cabin. What do ya say honey? That sound good?”

You smiled at Jack, “That sounds perfect. I love it.”

Eventually, the two of you approached the hunting cabin. It was a quaint single story log structure, larger than you expected it to be. Jack led you over to a small stable off to the right of the cabin. After dismounting from his horse and leading it to a stall, Jack helped you down and led your horse to a stall. You watched as he expertly removed the saddles and got the horses ready for the night. 

With a duffle bag in one hand, Jack took your hand with the other and led you on to the porch of the cabin and into the front door. Once inside, your heart warmed, it was a cozy and intimate space with wood panelling and flooring. To your right was a rustic kitchen with a large live-edge table. Immediately in front of you was a small sitting area with large overstuffed loveseats and a coffee table; farther to the left was an intimate bedroom space with a queen-sized bed (complete with red-plaid bedding). A small dresser sat along one wall. The whole cabin was wrapped in giant windows which looked out into the wilderness. A door between the sitting area and the sleeping area had a rustic sign labeling it as the bathroom; another door off the kitchen opened to a pantry. As your eyes took in the rustic cabin, a sense of warm comfort washed over you. It was perfect and very...Jack. 

“It’s wonderful, Jack!” You couldn’t help it as you wrapped your arms around him, pulling into a tight embrace. 

He laughed, as he dropped the duffle bag behind you, wrapping his arms around you. “I’m glad you like it y/n. This is a pretty special place. I’m happy to be sharin’ it with you.”

*****

The sun was setting as you and Jack walked out to sit on the porch bench, wrapped up together in a blanket. Jack had prepared a delicious dinner of steaks (grilled over the fire) and baked potatoes. You were pleasantly full as you sat, sipping a glass of bourbon, tucked up next to Jack on the porch. Both of you had removed your hats (now hanging by the front door), and you had left your hair out of it’s braid. The gentle curls cascading across the blanket. 

“Dinner was so good. I’m impressed with your cooking.” You teased, noticing the slight blush your words brought to Jack’s cheeks. 

“Well, thank you ma’am,” Jack answered, exaggerating his drawl. Then softer, he added, “My mama taught me how to cook. She said it was a good skill for a young man to possess.” He leaned in to whisper, “Plus, it helps me with the ladies.”

You giggled and teased, “Oh really?” 

Jack grinned and leaned down to whisper in your ear, “But you’re the only one for me now, sweetheart.” He kissed the side of your head. 

“Mm hmm,” you hummed, “I bet you say that to all the ladies.”

Jack chuckled, “Oh darlin’, you should know by now, I’m kinda like a one horse town. Only one mare in the stable.”

Turning to look at Jack, you let out a loud laugh, gently smacking him on the chest. “Oh god! That was terrible!” You laughed more, “A mare? Oh my god!” 

He lowered his head, grinning, “Yeah, alright. I’ll admit, it wasn’t my best. You got me.” Jack pulled you into his chest, so that your head rested against his shoulder. He softly said, “God’s honest truth is that after my wife left, I didn’t really think I’d get the chance to cook for another woman. I’d kinda resigned myself to bein’ a bachelor for the rest of my days.” He softly chuckled, “That is, until you joined the agency. Then….whoo lord...I felt like I was a boy with a schoolyard crush all over again.” 

“Aw Jack. You are such a romantic. All tough and gruff, but a softy underneath it all, aren’t you?”

“Now don’t you go tellin’ anybody that...I got a reputation to uphold.”

Holding your hands up on mock surrender, you giggled, “I promise, your secret is safe with me.” Turning back to cuddle against his side, you added, “Well, I really enjoyed your cooking. I’m honored you shared it with me.” 

The two of you watched the sun sink behind the hills, painting the sky in beautiful purples, oranges, and pinks. Like a watercolor painting, the sunset seemed to melt into the ridges of the distant mountains. A comfortable quiet fell over the cabin. 

Jack couldn’t believe how happy he was. He had been nervous to bring you out here, to share this special place with you, afraid that you might reject this vulnerable piece of him. But, he should have known you better. He should have known that you would love it. Glancing down at you, Jack had a perfect line of sight down the front of your tank top to the lacy black bra you wore underneath. His breath caught in his throat as his eyes traced the curve of your breast. Unconsciously, his hand tightened on your hip; his thumb began soft circles. 

Beside you, you felt Jack shift on the bench, slightly adjusting his position. The movement caused a whiff of his cologne to wash over you. Damn, he smells so good; a combination of something woodsy with something spicy. Overall, delicious. You were feeling overwhelmed by him - his warmth, the strength of his arm around you, his body beside you, the timbre of his voice, his rich scent. It was becoming too much. Arousal began dampening your underwear. You decided to go for it. You turned slightly in Jack’s arms so that you could lift your mouth to his ear. Seductively you whispered, “I’m curious. Besides cooking, what other skills do you have, cowboy?” You gently nibbled on his earlobe. 

The groan that you received in response went straight to your core, as Jack’s arm tightened around you, pulling you impossibly closer to him. “Let’s go inside,” you whispered in his ear. A promise and an invitation dripping in your words. 

Jack nodded before standing up and picking you up in the process. You yelped and tightened your legs around his waist as your arms locked around his neck. 

“Jack! What are you doing? Put me down!” You yelped. 

Smirking, he replied, “Nope.” And started walking into the house, closing the door behind him with his foot. 

“Jack, seriously! I don’t want to hurt you, put me down!”

He stopped midway through the sitting area, and cocked his head at you. “Baby, how are you gonna hurt me?” When he saw the insecurity in your eyes, he understood. His heart hurt as he realized. Turning, Jack sat down on one of the couches, placing you on his lap with your legs straddling his. He brought one hand up to cup your cheek, gently brushing his thumb along your jaw; his other hand resting firmly on your ass. “Sweetheart, look at me.” 

You raised your eyes to his, reluctant to see the look on his face. Finding only admiration and lust in his expression, you softly smiled. 

“Y/n, I love your curves. Hell, this gorgeous body of yours has been drivin’ me wild for over a year now! More times than I’m willin’ to admit, you’ve made meetings rather  _ difficult _ for me. With those skirts of yours or those daggum yoga pants...shit sweetheart, I felt like a damn teenager!” 

Sighing deeply, you answered softly, “Thanks Jack… Not everyone is as  _ appreciative _ . Guys can be cruel.”

Jack kissed you, suddenly, firmly, passionately. He pressed his lips to yours, stealing your breath. Your first kiss with Jack. All thoughts of insecurities flew out the window; all you could think of was Jack. His lips danced across yours, his mustache tickling your skin, causing you to moan into the kiss. He took advantage of the opportunity to deepen the kiss, licking into your mouth in such a way that had your brain short-circuiting. You tangled your fingers in his hair, surging forward into him, inadvertently grinding into his groin. It was Jack’s turn to groan. Your tongues danced, fighting for dominance. Soon, your brain started to scream for oxygen. Reluctantly breaking the kiss, you pressed your forehead against his, panting. 

“Hot damn, sugar.” Jack breathed out.

“Yeah,” was all you could reply, equally as breathless. For a moment you just sat, forehead to forehead, trying to catch your breath. Basking in the moment.

“Honey, I...I’d like to take you to bed an’ show you just how much I love these curves of yours.” Jack spoke softly; breath fanning against your lips. 

“Yes...please,” you whispered, closing your eyes. 

Swiftly, Jack stood up, again causing you to tighten your legs and arms around him. You yelped softly. He moved towards the bed with ease. As he had done on the couch moments earlier, he sat, holding you on his lap. Jack leaned forward and nipped at your lips, and faintly whispered, “Show me, babygirl.” He slid you down his legs, until you were standing between his knees. Jack sat up straight and leaned forward to place a kiss to your stomach over your tank top. His hands delicately tracing shapes on your thighs. 

Using both hands, you pulled your tank top over your head and tossed it to the ground beside you. Jack groaned your name, again leaning forward to place a kiss to your stomach. Waiting until he pulled back, you then undid your belt buckle and removed your belt, sliding it to the floor. With a slight tremble in your hands, you undid the button and lowered the zipper on your jeans. 

Before you could shimmy out of them, Jack looked up at you and quietly said “Let me do it.” As he started to pull your jeans over your hips, he softly whispered, “You ever hear that Sam Hunt song.  _ I can turn them inside out, I don’t need no help. _ ” He sang in low tones, as he slid your jeans over your knees and to the floor. Once you kicked them away, Jack smoothed his hands up your legs, along the backs of your calves, your knees, the backs and sides of your thighs, to rest on your hips. His large hands made your ample curves seem almost petite. 

His eyes traced over your body, eventually making eye contact with you. “Fuck…” He breathed out. “Y/n, you are beautiful.” He pulled you to him and rolled you under him on the bed, gently placing your head on the pillows. Jack briefly kissed you, before standing up at the foot of the bed. Suddenly feeling exposed, you moved to cover yourself with your hands. Jack quickly caught the movement, almost pleading, he whispered, “Please don’t hide sugar. You are magnificent. Please let me see you.” You blushed, moving your hands to your sides. 

Jack kicked off his boots and pulled off his flannel, tossing it to the floor with your clothes. With one hand he ripped his white t-shirt over his head, before quickly moving to undo his jeans and drop them to the floor. His movements were efficient, nothing flashy or suggestive. Just purposeful. 

It was your turn to ogle. Your eyes roved over every inch of tanned skin that presented itself; charting every line, dip, and curve of his strong chest, muscular arms, his broad shoulders, across his soft stomach. Drawing your eyes lower, you took in his firm thighs. Almost shyly, you raised your eyes to his tight black boxer briefs, currently doing little to hide a sizable bulge. You legitimately moaned; your thighs squeezing together without your permission. Above you, Jack smirked and drawled quietly, “You see, honey, you see what those curves of yours do to me?” 

Jack almost lost his composure as you bit your bottom lip and raised out your arms towards him. He dropped himself to the bed, caging you beneath him. Your arms wrapping around his neck and back. You aren’t sure who started it, but suddenly the two of you were liplocked Tongues, licking, tracing, caressing. The kiss was hungry, quickly turning from sweet to dirty, as teeth started nipping. Both of you moaning shamelessly. The way Jack was worshipping your body, you felt your insecurities meltaway, as hunger replaced them. 

Rolling so that he was on his side facing you, Jack smoothed his hand along your waist to rest on your lace-covered hip before looking at your hooded eyes, “Sweetheart, are you okay with this?” 

God, you just fell for him even more in that moment; wanting to check in with you, make sure you were okay and comfortable. You found yourself desperately wanting the handsome field agent laying in nothing but his skin-tight boxer briefs in front of you. Surging forward, you captured his lips in a bruising kiss, whispering “Yes, yes, yes,” against his lips. You felt him grin.

His hands gripped your hips and rolled the two of you, so that once again you were caged beneath him. Jack started kissing along your jaw, to your ear, nipping lightly at  _ that _ spot behind your ear causing you to moan out his name. Continuing his journey, he kissed and licked down the column of your throat, softly biting at the juncture with your shoulders. He licked along your collarbone, down your sternum, across the laced-covered swells of your breasts. Your hands tugged at his dark locks, continuing to moan shamelessly. 

The field agent briefly sucked and licked both of your breasts, gently mouthing at your covered hardening peaks before continuing his path downward. Placing open mouth kisses, licks, and bites down your stomach to the laced edge of your underwear. Jack lowered his face to your core, nosing at the growing damp spot before breathing deeply and groaning. “Fuck sweetheart, you smell like heaven. I bet you taste just as sweet. Can I taste you, sugar? Please?” 

You nodded before breathlessly answering “Yeah...yes Jack.” 

Jack gently slid your underwear down your legs and tossed them to the floor. “Hmm, these are pretty,” he whispered. Laying on his stomach, Jack hooked your thighs over his shoulders and gently swiped at your clit. You moaned and gripped his hair with one hand. Jack dipped his tongue lower, swiping at the juices which were now freely flowing from your cunt. He groaned sinfully, “Damn, you taste so sweet, honey.” 

“Oh Jack,” you moaned, reveling in the way his tongue traced your lips up to your clit, back down, dipped inside of you and repeated. Shit, you had never felt anything like it before. Jack seemed to be thoroughly enjoying himself, his eyes alternating between watching your face and taking in the rising and falling of your breasts. His pupils blown wide. 

He slipped a single finger into you, reaching and searching for the right spot. You screamed out his name as he found it, making him smile against your core. The sound almost making Jack come right then and there. He bucked his hips into the mattress for some relief.

“Oh, that’s it baby. Yes, come on,” he urged as he slipped a second finger in, swirling and stretching you open for him. He focused his tongue on your clit, alternating between sucking and flicking. A pattern which was driving you crazy. “Fuck, you are so sexy like this, darlin’. I wanna see you come. Go on now, give it to daddy.” 

Jack sealed his lips around your clit and sucked hard, throwing you over the edge into your release. Your fingers tightened in his hair. 

“Fuck, yes! Jack! Oh my god!” You cried out, feeling electricity race through every nerve in your body. Your back arched, shoving your cunt further into Jack’s face, which only caused him to groan into you more, triggering another small release from you. He continued to gently lick at you, collecting every ounce of your arousal. 

Once you became too sensitive, he crawled back up your body. Laying next to you, Jack licked his fingers clean, moaning at your taste. “Christ, you are gorgeous when you come undone, sweetheart. Prettiest thing I’ve ever seen.” 

You threw an arm over your face, “Holy shit, Jack.” He just chuckled and bent to place a kiss on your stomach. Uncovering your face, you looked over at him and smirked, “My turn now?” 

“I ain’t ever gonna say no to that, darlin’. Shit. I’ve been dreaming ‘bout those lips of yours stretched around me for so long now.” 

Humming in response, you flipped Jack over, straddling him. As you moved down his body, you took a second to kiss every scar and every blemish on his tan skin. Licking a line along the patch of dark hair on his lower abdomen. Once you reached the top of his boxers, you hooked your fingers in them and slid them down those strong, muscular legs. 

“Hm, one of these days, I wanna ride these.” You muttered to yourself, placing chaste kisses on both of his thighs. 

“Oh fuck, yes, baby. I wanna see that.” Jack groaned. 

You threw his boxers to the ground and returned so that your face was inches from his cock. “Holy hell, Jack. You’re...fucking huge.” 

Jack smiled smugly, but didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. Before he could even think about responding, you were flattening your tongue and licking along his length. Groaning, his hands flew to your head. Not pulling you, just holding you. 

You swirled your tongue around his crown, dipping across the slit. The taste of him had your mouth watering and you softly moaned. The vibration caused Jack to slightly buck up into your mouth. You took the opportunity and swallowed him as deep as you could, feeling the stretch of your lips. 

“Oh, shit, honey. Oh my god, look at you. You’re doin’ so good takin’ me like that.” Jack rambled breathlessly. Who knew that Jack would be so vocal in the bedroom; you loved it. His praise only sent more arousal dripping down your thighs. 

You worked his length, tonguing the vein along the underside, sucking his swollen tip, swirling your tongue across his slit, and swallowing him. Feeling spurred on by his praise, you took him deep into your mouth, until he was bumping the very back of your throat. He groaned your name above you and tightened his grip on your hair. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. God you feel so good. Shit, you look so pretty with my cock stuffed down your throat like that. Fuck. So goddamn pretty.” 

Continuing to suck at his length, you brought a hand up to firmly fondle his balls when suddenly he pulled you off of him by your hair. 

“Y/n, you gotta stop sweetheart. I don’t wanna finish down that pretty throat.”

You gave him a pout, which made his cock twitch still in your hand. “But I wanna taste you.” The innocence in your voice made Jack groan and his cock twitch again. 

“God I want that too, darlin’. You’ve got no idea how much I want that too. But not right now. First I gotta feel that pretty pussy of yours. Later we can do that, yeah?” 

You nodded before starting to crawl back up to lay across his chest. He didn’t let you stay there very long though before he was flipping the two of you over and holding you beneath him. 

He dropped his lips to yours, capturing you in a bruising kiss. Full of passion, adoration, and love. One of your hands tangled in his dark hair while the other tried to pull him impossibly closer to you by his shoulder. Teeth and tongues danced until air became a necessity. 

“Please, please Jack. I need you.” You brokenly begged against his lips. 

“Oh, honey. You got me.” Jack whispered back, brushing his lips against yours. 

“No, Jack. I  _ need _ you. I need to feel you.”

He just snickered, whispering, “I got you, baby. I got what you need.” 

Sitting up, Jack rose to his knees between your parted legs. He reached behind you and unclasped your bra, flinging it to the floor. Instantly leaning down and capturing one of your hardened nipples in his mouth. You moaned loudly. Jack swirled his tongue around your nipple, gently biting and sucking at it before moving to give the same treatment to the other one. 

Leaning up, he muttered “Damn, y/n. You are so fuckin’ gorgeous. Darlin’, every inch of you is absolutely divine.” 

You moaned his name before taking advantage of his position to run your hands down his chest, tracing every plane of muscle, across his stomach and down to his hardened cock. You wrapped a hand around him, causing him to buck and groan. Again, you begged him. 

“Please, Jack…”

Bracing one hand by your head, Jack’s other hand dwarfed yours around his length as he guided his cock to your entrance. He pressed gently into your heat, pressing only his tip in. 

“Oh shit!” You screamed, your hands flying to his shoulders, nails beginning to dig into his flesh. “Fuck, Jack! S’ big.” 

“Darlin’, you feel so damn good around me.” He rocked further into you, causing your back to arch and your breasts to jolt. “Oh fuck, babygirl, you look so good takin’ me like this.” He paused to allow you to adjust to him. Continuing to whisper gentle praise. 

Another gentle thrust and he bottomed out, bringing his hips flush with the backs of your thighs. 

“Oh my god! Jack!” Again, you screamed. Tightening your grip on his shoulders. 

Jack dropped his head to your shoulder, “Shit, you’re squeezin’ the shit outta me. So fuckin’ tight.” 

Releasing your nails from his shoulders, you ran your fingers down his sides and along his chest. “Please, Jack. Please move.” You softly groaned, throwing your head back slightly.

More than happy to oblige, Jack slowly pulled back to thrust back in. The sensation was more than either of you could handle, causing you both to swear loudly. The drag of his cock along your walls was like nothing you had ever experienced before, and had you seeing stars already.

Gradually, Jack built up a rhythm. Pulling back slow then quickly thrusting deep into you. Then repeat. He sat up, wrapping your legs around his waist. The change in angle caused your walls to flutter around his length. He continued to pull back slowly, then press deep into you. You stretched your arms over your head, bracing yourself against his harsh thrusts with the headboard. Jack was losing his mind, every thrust made your breasts bounce deliciously. 

“Yes, come on, babygirl. You look so pretty like this, all laid out for me. Takin’ me like this. Fuck, sweetheart, you take daddy so good.” Jack’s rambling praise had you clenching tightly around him. “Fuck, you like that, huh? Yeah, my girl is so innocent and  _ so  _ fuckin’ dirty.” 

“Shit! Jack! Jack! Jack!” You called out his name with every thrust, feeling the coil wind tighter and tighter with his every word and every drag across your g-spot. 

Jack brought his thumb to your clit to rub harsh circles on the swollen nub. Again, you clenched around him. You were getting close, he could feel it. He was getting close, trying to stay with it to make you come with him. 

“Fuck, sweetheart. M’ close. You just feel so damn good around me. God, you like that? Yeah?” 

“Yes! Close too, Jack. Please!” You yelped. Your breasts continued to bounce with every thrust, arms bracing against the headboard, and your thighs tight around his waist. 

He picked up the pace of his thrusts, feeling your walls constrict around him. Your hips began to rise to meet his. The sounds of skin slapping, Jack’s soft grunts, and your moans filled the small cabin. 

“Y/n, baby. Where?” Jack grunted loudly. “Where do you want daddy to come?” 

You threw your head back, your back arched. “Shit! Inside... Inside me, Jack!” 

That’s all it took to throw Jack off the ledge. The tingle at the base of his spine erupted as he thrust hard into you, shoving his cock deep into your fluttering and clenching cunt. His eyes slamming shut with the intensity of his release. He groaned your name, dropping his head to your chest. He felt dizzy.

You felt his cock swell, twitch, and splash against your walls. The sensation, overwhelming, immediately triggered your orgasm. White heat ripped through your body as every muscle contracted, every nerve fired. Your toes curled; thighs pulling him closer. You let out an almost primal groan of Jack’s name. You felt suspended in time and space, lost in pure bliss, somewhere between the next dimension and this one. Pleasure coursed through every vein. Almost like your soul itself had experienced a release. 

For a minute, neither of you could move. You both laid there, intertwined and intimately connected, panting, coming down from your highs. With every aftershock that racked you, Jack felt your walls shiver around him, drawing deep groans from his chest. 

Eventually Jack was able to roll the two of you over, so that you laid across his chest, remaining lodged in your core. Your sweat slick skin sticking together with every pant. For minutes, the only sound was your combined beating hearts and the sounds of your breathing. Even growing soft, Jack still stretched you. 

Finally, you caught your breath again. You opened your eyes to see Jack staring down at you on his chest, with love in his eyes. You let out a breath and then leaned up to capture his lips in a passionate kiss. Slightly breaking the kiss, you whispered, “Jack, I love you.” You felt him smile into the kiss, before he leaned back slightly and answered. 

“Damn, babygirl. I love you too, y/n.” 

You curled further into his chest, sighing contentedly. He placed a kiss to the top of your head before dropping his head back to the pillows. Both of your hearts swelled with the acknowledgement of the love between you. 

After getting cleaned up, both of you slipped back into bed. There was no need to put any clothes on. Jack wrapped you up in his arms, pulling you into his chest; spooning you. With his arm wrapped around your waist, Jack smiled, reflecting on how lucky he was to be holding you and how much he loved you.

Feeling his arm tighten around you, you whispered, “G’night Jack. I love you.”

“G’night darlin’. I love you too.” 

  
**THE END**


End file.
